Living My Dreams

This morning, as so many other mornings, I walked over to River Cottage to water houseplants, sweep porches, and such. Lured by the serenity and simplicity there, I decided to make a pot of coffee and stay awhile.  Sitting at the kitchen island, one's view through the window is of the Cherry Mansion, the house where I grew up and where I now live with my own family.  Though it's not a mansion by anyone's standards, I was still captured by its beauty and timelessness.  I thought, "How lucky am I to have coffee in such a magic spot: sitting in my fun cottage gazing at my old home that I have loved so much and so long."

As a teacher of gifted and talented students for most of my professional career, my mantra has always been, "Follow your dreams. Be all you can be." Most of them did just that, and it's so rewarding and thrilling when they drop in for a visit and tell about their grownup lives as doctors, lawyers, pharmacists, accountants, archaeologists, fighter pilots, teachers, artists...Well, that list goes on and on.

How ironic then that my dreams led me right back to Savannah, Tennessee, where I grew up.  It was exactly the right decision for me and has allowed me to follow my own dreams and to be the person I think I was meant to be.  You see, my daddy left me a legacy, a responsibility - "Take care of the Cherry Mansion and share it with those who love its history." To some that would have felt like a dreary life sentence, a daunting task. To me it was, and has always been, a gift, a privilege, a passion.  Most days it is just "home", but sometimes I stop to remember its significance in the early history of our community, its steadfastness through good times and hard times, the families who have lived there and loved there, the soldiers who died there fighting for our young country.

It's becoming increasingly harder to keep the roof from leaking, the paint from peeling, the floors from sagging.  We prioritize and do the best we can.  We also try to honor my dad's wishes by opening the house for tours from time to time.  It's such a lot of trouble - hiding everyone's laundry, vacuuming away the pet  hairs, sticking magnolia leaves in all the empty vases.  I always think to myself, "Why did I ever agree to this?" Then the tour begins and the guests fall under the spell of the place. They listen attentively as I once again get carried away with my tales of parties, civil war spies, and dying generals. At the tour's end, they thank me profusely for welcoming them into our home, and I know that my dad was right.  It is a place to be saved, to be cherished, and to be shared.